Dave's Internet Journal
by nope.jpg
Summary: Dave Strider, a runaway, a drug addict, promiscuous and an alcoholic. These are the accounts of his life as he's on the run, this, is Dave's Digital Journal. Please RxR


The apartments were usually more or less silent at this time of night, not a sound to stir the empty corridor in the main lobby. It was only some nights, that the noise would become all one heard. Sometimes people called the cops, sometimes people didn't even bother, and other times we'd have people out in the hallways, waiting, watching.

My family was nothing but a circus act to others, that is if you would even consider us a family. Just my brother and I, living the life on the top floor of an apartment in Houston, Texas. Regardless, the fact that we were seen as the scum of the earth, was me.

I knew it was my fault, this is not one of those stories when I blame myself for things that really aren't my fault, in fact, this is pretty much the opposite. This is where I introduce myself and tell you why I'm such a screwup, why I'm the one to blame.

Dave Strider is the name, I'm seventeen and I've been living with just my brother since my parents died when I was around nine years old. Even before they died, I had been acting up. Constantly I was running away, doing drugs, getting into fights. Of course the drugs came later along the line when I was older. Recently I've been getting into sexual encounters with older people.

Women?

Men?

It was all the same, as long as they paid the price that I charged I wasn't complaining. I was making the gold, who cared if my brother made good money with his company? My own little business was making bank all on its own. People loved little blond boys.

Now that you people are pretty well versed in my life, I'll start on the night where everything really went downhill. The night that changed everything in my life.

It was pouring rain, one of those torentual downpours that soaked everything, and I was inside on the computer, snug as a bug wrapped up in my comfortor as I browsed through tumblr. In another tab I had up a chat.

A chat that held a conversation between me and a man probably twice my age. We were planning, deciding what he was going to do and the price it would be to do just that. I was expensive, you couldn't just pick guys like me up on the side of the road for a quick night, no I was classy. I couldn't tell you how many people worked for big buck businesses and picked me up.

Needless to say, that's not what this is about. Here's where we'll really begin and I stop talking like an pre pubescent teenage girl on her period speaking about her emotions.

"Dave! Open the damn door!"

I didn't bother to get off the bed, I knew that he could break down the door, the only thing that would happen if I got up was a few splinters. My brother wasn't abusive, not in the least, he just cared about my well being. I hated that. He just didn't understand, I could take care of myself and I didn't need him to coddle me.

"Go away." Was the only response I gave as I clicked through some pictures of kittens, smirking to myself and huffing a laugh.

There was only the sound of a lock turning and in came my bro, stepping through the doorway with a purpose to his gait as he made his way to my bed. Way less dramatic than I had imagined in my mind. If I had just a moment I would have thought up a sweet karate kick he could have used to break the door in half, and then he would somersault over. Of course, that's just not how things happened though, and I was disappointed to say that I was not very impressed.

"I've been monitoring your computer, what the hell do you think you're doing talking to people like that."

"People like that" meant the older men and women who wanted a good lay. If that wasn't obvious by this point, please close out and turn away from the computer. This virtual diary is not for you. Such simple facts anyone can deduct. Obviously, at the time, the saying people like that didn't really make sense to me, they were just my clients, nothing more and nothing less.

"It's nothing Bro, just leave me the hell alone."

"Really? Dave do you know what can happen to you? You could get raped, kidnapped, killed. Do you really think that you're smarter than those people?"

Of course I did, I was seventeen years old with a god complex bigger than fucking Jupiter. I thought that I could outsmart anyone, that I could fight anyone and win because that's just how things went. Dave Strider won every fight that he went into. Always. There were no exceptions, no takesies backsies. It was what it was and nothing was going to change my mind at the time. What else was I supposed to think? I was Dave motherfucking Strider, the cream of the crop.

"Nothing's going to happen to me. I know how to handle myself."

He didn't like that answer. No one would honestly, who likes to talk to someone like that, not me I can assure you. People like that pissed me off, I wanted to fight people who talked like that. Which was funny, because that's exactly how I acted, like an ignorant child.

"You know how to handle yourself? Really? Is that why you came home half concious the other night? What could have happened when you were drugged off your ass Dave? Do you even know?" So many questions that I didn't have the answer to. Most of the time I came home after taking some sort of drug that just made everything feel hazy. I never quite remembered what the drug was, but it was fucking great. It made me feel amazing and it made the nights with some of the more harsh clients enjoyable. Who was I to complain? It was just to help my business. Regardless, what my brother said pissed me off, it was my life, not his. I could do what I want.

"Look I don't care! I don't fucking care alright! God you never fucking listen to me it's like you put me on mute or something!"

"I'm listening to you right now dumbass! Calm down and just talk to me, we've been putting off this shit for far too long. What are you doing?"

In the middle of him talking I had thrown myself off the bed to a little string backpack, shoving my laptop in it and my ipod, headphones included. I was done with my bro yelling at me, sometimes I started to get angry. There was medication I was on to help stop the anger, I even went to an anger magagement course. After the first session I just stopped showing up, the idiots who were there who thought that they were tough just pissed me off. Just like every other kid like myself I had convinced myself that I was tough shit, and that everyone else was bellow me.

It wasn't until later in life that I had found out that I was oh so very wrong.

So then, like the idiot I was I was shoving past my brother, hauling ass. My main goal was to get out of the apartment, get down the stairs and book it down the street to just get as far away from my home as possible. Running away had become one of my favorite things to do, it was the adrenaline that they could catch up to you at anytime. The cops would be looking for me. Or maybe not. Like I said, sometimes no one even bothered to call the cops. In cases like that I just got so bored on the run that I would manage to find my way home.

"Woah hold up there buckaroo." There was a tug on my backpack and I thrashed, getting him to let go before I actually started to run. He wasn't after me, and this just made me angrier, but I didn't stop, I would never stop. That was just a sign of weakness that I had no itentions of showing. Right before I had thrown myself out the door I looked back at my brother who was frowning, looking more disappointed than ever. At that moment I couldn't even describe the power I had felt. I was the reason he was down, I was making him feel like shit and that actually made me feel good.

That night I had ran so far that I was in a part of town that I hadn't even seen before. Unlike I had expected, my brother actually had called the cops, not for a runaway, but for a missing person. That meant that he really didn't want me to get in trouble. Before I had made it out this far I had heard the sirens going off, the sound of people calling my name like I would just show up had I been dead in a ditch on the side of the road. I wasn't, but that did they know?

In other news I had somehow ended up in the low-income area, the large apartment buildings had traded places with little shanty looking houses and cracked sidewalks, the asphalt looking more like rubble than anything. Don't even get me started on the smell, that shit was something rancid that I can't even get out of my nasal cavity to this day. It's like a reminder to myself of that time.

Down the road were a couple people, and I could swear that they were the only ones living there had I not heard the screaming of some mother trying to gather her children for dinner in one of the shady looking houses off the side of the road.

The closer I got the more apparent it became that the people I was getting close to were girls. Girls who looked pretty damn suspicious. We were up close soon enough, they had both stopped in front of me. Spanish girls, you could tell just by looking at them, though they both had different personalities. The one on the left had about hip length dark brown hair and eyes to match. She wore slightly classier clothing than the one to my right, and it seemed like she was the sweetheart of the two. Which was weird, people like myself usually hung around one and the same. Now the one to the right really caught my attention, and not in the way you would think.

I meant that she seemed like the type who could help me out.

Her hair and eyes were the same color, the reason I had assumed she was maybe a sister or a cousin, but it was styled very differently. It was short and shaggy, framing her face messily like she didn't even bother to run a brush through it. On each side she had a long thin braid, so long that it trailed behind her on the ground, probably picking up all sorts of dirt and grime. Through her left eyebrow were two golden piercings, that I found pretty intruiging. I always did love piercings. Unlike her counterpart, who had clothing that was covering most of her skin, save her arms and some of her legs, this girl was practically in rags. Her jeans were ripped at the knee and high up on her thigh, and her shirt hung off one shoulder, revealing a tanktop and a hint of a bright pink cheetah print bra.

"Hey sharkbait. Never seen ya around here before." Said braid-girl, leaning over to nudge the other in the side and whisper something that sounded like, "did you hear that? I called him sharkbait." At this, the classy girl giggled, keeping her eyes on the ground. It was weird that she wouldn't make eye contact with me. Must have been a way of showing respect.

"That's because I'm not from around here. But I have to keep moving, sorry to disappiont you girls."

When I went to go step around them the braid girl stepped forward, her hands on my chest to keep me moving, "nah, I have some things I want from ya, got any loot in that sick backpack o'yours rich kid?" I wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now, so I shoved the girl hard and she stumbled backwards, laughing the whole way. The other girl was looking at me, staring me down. "Look at that Feffy, little shrimp thinks he can take us on." The girl now dubbed as Feffy rolled her eyes and reached up, fumbling with the little earrings in her ears. At this time I noticed the other girl coming at me again, she went for my backpack and I landed a hit right on the side of her jaw, without even a thought I had pulled my fist back and hit a girl.

"Meenah you idiot." Grumbled Feffy, stepping forward, "who the hell do you think you are boy? This is our neighborhood."

By now people were coming out and watching, no one bothered to help, some people even cheered out encouragements. Pulling back my arm I went to throw another punch, my fist slinging out and without a missed beat she caught my arm and twisted it behind my back, bending me down and bringing her knee up to my stomach.

While I was struggling to get out of her old, completely out of breath I might add, the other girl Meenah had come up behind me. The last thing I felt before I was slammed face first into the ground was her foot on my back. Next thing I knew I had a facefull of asphalt. I had literally gotten the shit kicked out of me by two girls. The backpack was pulled from me, strings snapping with the force of her pull, and Meenah knelt down beside me, her breath hot on my hear.

"Sorry homie, that's how the system works in this town."

As tough as I usually wanted to act, hitting the ground like that fucking hurt, and my face was throbbing, I'm pretty sure my nose had been broken. That's probably why it whistled all weird now that I think about it. No matter, her words were the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

The next time I woke up I was tied to a bed by my wrists and being spoon fed by the bitch who had knocked my lights out. The next time I was unrestrained I wanted to kick her ass. I could do it if I wasn't so shocked, that's what I told myself. Dave Strider didn't lose to girls when he was prepared and ready to go.

"Hey guppy." Was her greeting, and I groaned, in turn accidentally knocking the spoon out of her hand and spilling piping hot soup right onto the front of my unclothed chest. They had removed my shirt, awesome. Also hey ding ding ding, if you didn't notice, SARCASM IS PRESENT. Welcome to the fucking two thousands where sarcasm was invented ( actually side note I have no damn idea when sarcasm was invented, who knows maybe it was so easy a caveman could do it ).

"Oh shit sorry little fish I'll clean that up for ya." I was getting sick of the little fish jokes, in fact I think I may have tried to hit my head against the wall behind me. If I had actually succeeded, that would explain why I don't have much memory of it. When she came back she had a ragged looking towel that she wiped off my chest with, dropping it over the side of the bed when she decided that I was clean enough. I could still smell soup, it sort of grossed me out. Plus I wasn't sure that what I was eating had really been soup, for all I knew it could be anything. She was probably drugging me or something.

Sighing I tugged at the bindings around my wrists, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, I have nothing against kinky shit that others are into, but could you untie me. Bondage isn't really my cup of tea." Instead of untying me like I wanted, she laughed at this, slapping me on the arm like it was the funniest damn thing she had ever heard in her life. It wasn't funny, I was being completely serious. Why didn't anyone take me seriously?

"Okay as great as it is that we can talk on such nice terms kid, you did punch me earlier." Meenah grabbed my chin, making fish faces at me as she spoke, "the act is cute an all. But until you stop acting like the tough guy, you're tied up."

"That's not fair, I'm not even going to stick around."

"Boo hoo, your nose is busted up and probably broken. Do you want to go around with a retarded nose?"

"If that's what I have to do to get the hell away from you."

Our eyes met in a glare, both of us staring the other down until she blinked and a smile cracked on her face. She was laughing now, full on laughing. I wasn't quite sure if it was about me, at me, or with me. How she could be laughing with me I'm not sure, but I liked saying that better than thinking about being laughed at.

"I like you, what's your name?"

"Dave." My reply was curt, telling her that I wanted to stop talking, to just get this over with and fix my nose and get the hell out of there. I didn't even care if my nose was fixed, leaving was the only thing on my mind. The farther I got from Meenah the better.

"Feffy said you looked like an Albert. I said Dean, looks like I was closer. She so owes me some money."

"You made a bet on what my name was?"

"Yep, and guess who's racking in the loot."

"Me, I was the most accurate."

That caught her off guard and she pouted, reaching forward to flick me in the forehead. As I struggled on the bindings on my arms again I got to wondering about what their parents thought about this. Even more so, it sounded like there wasn't anyone in the house at all. I had been wrong before, but it was eerily silent. It was like we were the only ones in the building, even without Feffy. My thoughts were interrupted, she was talking again.

"Nah, I think I like the name Dean better for you, so that's what I'm going to call you. Since we're on a first name basis, I think I can untie you."

It was about damn time, I was starting to get rope burn on my wrists. The second that I was untied I sat up and rubbed at my wrists, huffing a laugh to myself. Everything just seemed funny at that moment, the situation. The other night, ( had it been a whole day by then? I can't remember) I had been telling my bro that I could handle myself, and now here I was having just been untied from the bed after getting my ass kicked by two girls in the ghetto. I had myself convinced that I was just unprepared, or that I couldn't hit a girl. In reality I wasn't as tough as I though myself out to be, they could probably kick my behind three ways to Thursday. Not to say that I was being overdramatic, they were some hardcore girls.

"But my name is Dave." Was the smartest thing that I could come up with in response, and she took that as an invitation to pinch my cheeks.

"You are just so precious, Dean."

"God damn it Meenah my name is not Dean." Something struck a nerve in her. She blushed brightly and her mouth made a little "o" eye widening. Was it something I had said, did I embarrass her? I really hoped that I said something to offend her, maybe I would have a chance to redeem myself.

I was close but no cigar.

Okay scratch that, I wasn't even fucking close at all to what had happened compared to what I thought would happen.

Meenah practically launched herself at me, arms going around my neck in a tight surprise embrace. She was rubbing our heads together and I felt an odd sense of claustraphobia washed over me and I placed my hands on her shoulders, trying to push her off when she started making little cooing sounds.

"Meenah! You called me Meenah! We must be friends now!"

Dave Strider didn't make friends. That was weird for me, and when she finally pulled away I glared at her, but she was staring at me and smiling so broadly I sighed and gave in.

"Okay yeah, we're friends."

"Good, I can let you leave now, under one condition."

She held up her index finger in my face and waggled it around, showing that it was one condition, no more no less. I'm so glad she had clarified that for me, just saying that she had one condition just didn't do it for me apparently.

"And that is?"

"Give me your pesterchum."

9/11/12

That' all I can really remember about that day, now time is forward and I'm sitting here on my ass in a starbucks trying to keep my face well hidden. It's a little hard living this life, and honestly I hate it. Years later and I'm still doing this, it's sort of funny in it's own little way. Meenah and I still talk, and Feffy ( who's real name is Feferi by the way ) and I have become some pretty good friends. If it weren't for them I probably wouldn't have anywhere to go after what I had done.

If anyone finds this journal in the future, let me tell you something, if you have read this far and you intend on reading further, please think about the things I have done and just don't do them. My life is ruined, the cops are on my tail.

I would do anything to get my friendship with my brother back.

Sometimes we just don't account for things I guess.

Night journal, do me a solid and don't accidentally delete or something.


End file.
